


Strong Medicine

by Jaye_Voy



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kink Exploration, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Voy/pseuds/Jaye_Voy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of Tom and B'Elanna's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set the evening after the last scene of "Scientific Method". Inspired by the question of why B'Elanna would stay with Tom when, in canon, they didn't really seem to be "together" until B'Elanna's pregnancy. (That is, Tom often ignored her in favor of other pursuits, and B'Elanna didn't seem to mind all that much.) Started out as a C/Tu, but strangely enough circled back to C/P.  
> Although there are a few tweaks, the story's contents (and its flaws) are mostly intact.   
> Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, language, sex and mild BDSM.

When did he start hating spaghetti? The limp pale strands on the plain dark plate were an unappetizing lump, impossibly tangled by his attempts to make it look like he'd eaten more than he had. 'Cause he wasn't about to swallow one more bite.

Maybe pasta wasn't really his problem.

Tom stared at his half-eaten meal. What a waste of good replicator rations. As a medic he could easily diagnose his condition. Nausea, specifically a stomach-flopping unease brought on by unsettled thoughts. Therefore psychosomatic and thus untreatable. Prognosis: not good. His stomach gave another internal clench that made him catch his breath. In some odd little quirk of irony, it was about the only part of him that seemed alive at the moment.

A vague malaise had settled over him like a coating of dust, dry and musty, dulling the senses. Everything had gone gray, not just the bulkheads.

It felt like detox, that horrible phase of stumbling and fumbling in a funk of uncaring. Before the cure took hold and you showered away the stink of the drink or drug, before you shaved and brushed your teeth and washed your hair and declared yourself one of the shiny happy people.

In a way, that's exactly what this *was*. A kind of cold-turkey cut-off from a natural high.

He was coming down from the haze of hormones in his system---courtesy of some Srivani's twisted idea of a science-fair project---and it made him sick.

So did the utter fucking screw-up he'd made of things.

Tom looked up at his dining companion, his dark-haired, dark-eyed, tawny-skinned lover, and hoped his face didn't betray the horror he felt.

After all, B'Elanna didn't deserve to be humiliated just because Tom didn't love her.

The way she, by her own admission, loved him.

It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that at the time they jumped into bed together, Tom already *had* a dark-haired, dark-eyed, tawny-skinned lover.

Chakotay.

Tom's stomach heaved as the enormity of the betrayal once more made itself known. He stared at his hands, those hands that had caressed along and over and into B'Elanna's body so many times in the last few weeks. He hastily grabbed a glass and gulped wine, hoping the sharp flavor would knock his thoughts out of their horrified spiral.

B'Elanna looked at him, puzzlement probably on her face. But his guilt warped the expression into narrow-eyed accusation. As if she could see the turmoil of his soul. Instinct kicked in---defend, distract. Quick smile, a plastered-on air of reassurance that was so far from reality it was almost laughable. But he didn't risk making a sound.

Because it would flatten under the weight of bitterness, and warp at the edges with the fingernail-scrape keen of hysteria. In any case, the trademark Flyboy grin did the trick and she responded with a smile of her own.

Relief stilled the rumbling in his guts at the unaccustomed lack of lust in that glance. Maybe the end of the Srivani's manipulations had cooled her passions as well.

It would make dumping her a whole lot easier. But he was going to feel like an absolute heel anyway, when he got around to actually feeling again.

Because B'Elanna really was innocent in all this. *He* had insisted that Chakotay not say anything about their getting together. And sure as hell he hadn't told anyone. Private and low-key was the way to go. Why deal with the crew's reaction on top of all the other shit he and Chakotay had to work out?

Of course, everything had now blown up in his face. And, brutal, bitter honesty made him admit he was the one who set things off.

B'Elanna hadn't *wanted* to get involved with him. She had been perfectly willing to walk away and forget about her "deathbed confession"---delivered without a bed---when she told Tom she loved him as they gasped out their last breaths in EV suits floating in space, alone and hopeless.

But resisting the pull between them had been unacceptable, unthinkable. He had pursued B'Elanna aggressively, haunting her, hunting her. Wanting her and determined to claim her. Visceral, animal need raged to mark her with his touch, his scent, his seed.

Chakotay had completely slipped from his mind. All he knew was B'Elanna: fire in the brain and in the blood until he *had* to have her.

And she had given in, sparking a torrid affair. Animal sex---abrupt, raw, incendiary. Trying to consume one another, live in each other's skins, desperate for physical connection. And no wonder, with those alien experiments keeping them in a biochemical frenzy.

So now Tom had B'Elanna. But with the Srivani influence gone from his body and mind, he no longer wanted her.

He wanted Chakotay. Strong body clad in soft bronze skin, dark eyes that shone with such a light, just for him. His body craved a touch surprisingly gentle from hands that had long ago proved their ruthless power to kill. Yearned for a tender embrace that was more of a home than Earth had ever been.

And Tom felt another kind of compulsion: to reach out, to comfort, to cherish in return. To help Chakotay deal with that too-close brush with death those damn bastards had put him through when they aged him almost to the limit of his lifespan. How had Chakotay, turned old and feeble overnight, handled it all alone?

Which sparked an even more interesting question. Why *hadn't* Chakotay said or done anything to reclaim Tom weeks ago? He had to have known something was up when Tom suddenly disappeared from his life. And even the most ignorant bliss would have been dispelled by the gossip about Tom and B'Elanna. The news whispered all over the ship after the Captain's smackdown for their little on-duty lustfest.

Determination rippled through him, shaking off some of the brain-dust. He had to find Chakotay, make things right again. He wanted his life back the way it was. The way he feared it would never be again.

But he also didn't want to hurt B'Elanna.

Damn the fucking Srivani and their meddling. He fought the overwhelming urge to put his head in his hands and groan. His entire life had been turned to shit in less than a month, and Tom had no idea how to start cleaning up the mess.

Except Chakotay was priority number one.

"Hey, B'El, I'm sorry to eat and run, but I've got something to do this evening." Glib tone to match the carefree expression hastily pasted on as he stood. Hating himself for not giving her some clue of the heartbreak to come, but unwilling to brave the emotional fallout just yet.

Once he had straightened things out with Chakotay, he'd be back. And then his fling with B'Elanna would be over. He refused to give a backward glance as he made his escape.

B'Elanna sighed as Tom's tense back disappeared through the closing panel. She picked up her wine, staring into the dark red liquid, lost in thought.

Tonight had been a disaster. Every dragging minute Tom fidgeting, broadcasting his eagerness to get away. To escape from *her*.

More disturbing was her own ambivalence: though she was angry and hurt, part of her truly didn't care if he left or stayed. In some ways he was a stranger, some guy she found in her bed this morning, smelly and sticky and banged-up as herself.

But for weeks until yesterday, Tom had been her entire universe. Her sole reason for being, while she was in the hazy re-acquaintance with some kind of Klingon version of pon farr---courtesy of those phase-shifted bastards.

Her growl didn't startle her. She wanted to rip the aliens limb from limb for daring to mess with her body, making her lose control.

Yet Janeway had let them escape, no repercussions, no punishment for the agony and suffering, or even the loss of their crewmate. Some days it just didn't pay to be civilized.

Because now B'Elanna was dealing with the dregs of emotions that were as bitter as her most private truths.

The empty cabin seemed to mock her uncertainty. Did she share those secrets, or bury them forever?

Fruitless introspection always annoyed her. She just shrugged and tossed back the last of her wine.

And resolved to wait and see.

***************

Chakotay hated the taste of hard liquor, but tonight he welcomed the burn at the back of his throat, stealing his breath.

Reminding him he was still alive.

His fingers ran through his hair of their own volition---unconscious confirmation that the strands weren't falling out again anytime soon.

He shouldn't have been bald. The Srivani added insult to injury, not even letting him age like a proper Dorvan, with the white hair that typically adorned the elders of both sexes.

The shadow of the old man with his face lay upon him still. His bones ached; he couldn't seem to shake a soul-deep fatigue. The only reason he was in Sandrine's was to banish the crew's memory of his infirmity. They needed to see him alive, healthy, and at least as young as he used to be.

Even if he felt as old as he was ever going to get.

The Doc said the lingering side-effects would fade in another day or so. Just a little time needed to get back the bounce in his step. To cram the latest alien violation of his body and mind into its storage bin and forget.

He was getting damn sick and tired of being the Delta Quadrant's plaything.

Another sip of whiskey replaced the sour taste in his mouth with a slightly more palatable one. A leisurely look around the room revealed crewmembers bold and humble huddled together like frightened children, trying to find safety in numbers even though they were *almost* positive the danger was past.

Ironic, since the Srivani had demonstrated so effectively that there was no comfort---or protection---to be found.

His brief flirtation with the thought of scooping up a companion or two and privately celebrating a successful recovery was very brief indeed.

He'd never been much for casual sex. And he didn't care for the idea of further victimizing a victim. They had all been hurt by the Srivani, one way or another.

Besides, the person Chakotay might have preferred to spend time with was a little busy at the moment---shacking up with Chakotay's best friend.

The last sip of his drink wasn't strong enough to chase away the bitter thoughts this time. He signaled the barkeep for another.

"It's on me."

Chakotay didn't need to turn to look at Tom. He could gauge the amount of self-recrimination twisting the pale features just by the guilt wincing through the younger man's voice. "No thank you."

"Chakotay, we have to talk," Tom insisted as he slid sideways onto a stool and planted one elbow on the bar. He wrapped his other hand around Chakotay's wrist.

Chakotay shifted away, freeing himself to accept a fresh drink. He slowly rotated the glass between his hands, keeping his gaze on the amber liquid. And his emotions firmly in check.

After all, as far as anyone on Voyager knew, Tom and he were just friends. Just as everyone knew B'Elanna and Tom were lovers. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit." Tom's breath hissed sudden heat in his ear. Chakotay cursed the involuntary shiver of awareness that snaked down his spine. He had already made his choices. They would be hard enough to live with. He didn't need Tom hovering, close as a lover, playing havoc with his senses.

Time for evasive maneuvers. An abrupt shift to face temptation straight on, a casual shoulder bump on the way putting space between them, crossed arms creating a barrier. "Really. Well from where I sit, Tom, any 'conversation' between us finished the moment you took B'Elanna to bed."

"Fuck that, Chakotay. You know what happened---those aliens messed with my head, and my dick went along for the ride. It's not like there was a lot I could do about it." Tom thrust his face forward, an angry flush spreading along his cheeks. "Or are you telling me you were going to grow your hair back with the power of positive thinking?"

Keep cool. Keep calm. The only way to get through this was to stay in control. Chakotay replied, "I'm not saying that you had any control over your hormones---just who you decided to indulge them with." He watched blue eyes widen, then narrow; this was obviously going to be a tough sell. Chakotay braced himself and said, "I checked with the Doc. The Srivani made you horny as hell, but they didn't force you to fuck B'Elanna."

Tom's protest was so perfect it was as if he'd read Chakotay's script. "But she had her libido stuck on high too. Of course we ended up together."

"No dice," Chakotay scoffed. "Gerron and Jenny Delaney were in the same situation, but they weren't *compelled* to do the horizontal mambo. Jenny just worked off her frustrations on the holodeck, and Gerron got frisky with Greg. *His lover*."

Chakotay clamped his lips on the rest of his tirade. He'd already decided he had no claim on Tom, so he had no right to complain about him either. Shrug it off, get it done. "Bottom line, your instincts were hyped up and they led you away from me and straight to B'Elanna. Who, if there's any truth to the rumor, is already head over heels in love with you. Congratulations." 

He turned back to his drink. "That's pretty much the end of it."

Tom gritted his teeth in frustration. He'd known Chakotay wouldn't want to hurt B'Elanna---hell, he wasn't looking forward to that himself. But why was Chakotay being so damn *stubborn*? Why couldn't he *see*? "Chakotay, B'Elanna and I joked about our fling being due to the Srivani. But it turns out to be true---I don't feel anything for her except friendship anymore. She's not going to be all that shocked if I end things. It's not like I told her I loved her or anything."

"For the record, you never said you loved *me*, either." Chakotay's voice was flat. "But then what we had was more of a liaison than a love affair. And I'd just as soon not start it all over again. You're a bit too high-maintenance for me, Tom---but apparently not for B'Elanna. So no thanks, not interested."

The cool air of dismissal as Chakotay raised his glass to his lips irked Tom into action. No way was he going to be brushed off like a piece of lint. This was too personal, too important. He stood up and grabbed blindly, ignoring the slosh of liquor onto their hands as he jerked Chakotay around to face him again, uncaring of who saw or heard them.

"What the hell is the matter with you? We had something good going and you just want to flush it away like a piece of shit. High-maintenance my ass." Tom's gut clenched again, this time in dread, as resignation settled over Chakotay's face. It made Chakotay look like he had just hours ago, old and tired.

"I tried to let you down easy, Tom, but you're forcing me to play hardball." Chakotay pulled free once more and set down his drink. "So here's the truth: I'm glad this happened. If you hadn't dumped me for B'Elanna I'd have dumped you soon enough."

Tom's mind went blank. Utter silence. Shock held him upright a moment, swaying. Then he blindly fumbled around for his stool and fell onto it. "What?"

Chakotay fought his instinct to reach out and steady Tom. He couldn't risk showing any sign of weakening, too uncertain of his façade of determination. He firmed his jaw and his tone. "I mean it, Tom. Sure, we had a few good times, some laughs, and maybe I even convinced myself that I was in love with you for a little while." 

He cringed internally at Tom's shocked gasp. "But I just can't take the lies anymore."

"What do you mean---I never lied to you, Chakotay." So little force behind that denial.

"You think not? Maybe it wasn't intentional. But you know what they say: Actions speak louder than words." Chakotay dropped his gaze to his whiskey-soaked sleeve; this was harder than he'd hoped. "When we first batted around the idea of...exploring our mutual attraction, I was up front with you, Tom. I told you that if I wanted to be a top exclusively I'd be with a woman. You said you were OK with that."

Tom felt his body grow cold. Chakotay *knew*. Or suspected. Maybe not everything, but enough. He swallowed, silent, as Chakotay continued, "But you never took the lead in *anything*, Tom. You had me make all the moves, all the decisions, practically all the conversation. Hell, I've seen sacks of wheat with more spirit. Whoever that was sharing my life, my bed, it definitely *wasn't* Tom Paris." 

Tom gasped at the bleakness in the dark eyes that met his. 

Chakotay nodded. "So you lied to me, Tom, right from the start."

"I didn't, I swear, Chakotay. It's just---" The words choked in Tom's throat. He couldn't explain---it was all too sordid, evoking memories of back alleys and darker days. "Please, can't we go back to the way things were? We were so right together." 

He reached out once more, laying his hand on Chakotay's. "I *like* who I am when I'm with you." And it was true. When he was in basking in the light of Chakotay's eyes, lying nestled in his embrace, he felt a different man: cherished, clean, perfect, whole.

Home.

Chakotay lifted Tom's hand from his own and placed it on the bar. He hated causing the shell-shocked look in those blue eyes, but he knew in his gut that he couldn't pretend everything was fine anymore. He thought with time and TLC Tom would open up to him, but instead Tom had gotten more and more entrenched in the strange, meek persona Tom used when they were alone.

He couldn't even begin to guess what that mask was hiding. He doubted he would ever know.

"But it's not who you *are*, Tom. You never let me in, not even close." Chakotay cursed the quiver in his fingers as he raised a hand to Tom's face, a hesitant but necessary caress. His heart lurched as Tom leaned into the touch, eyelids sliding shut. Chakotay murmured sadly, "You're a beautiful man, Tom, but that's not enough. Passion isn't enough. Not even love is enough. If nothing else, coming so close to death showed me that."

He dropped his hand and waited for Tom to open his eyes. Hoping his own conveyed his resolve, and hid the feelings that still raged so strongly in his soul. "I can't do it anymore, Tom. What we had together wasn't...wasn't *real*. I can't live every moment wondering what your secrets are. Why you don't---won't---trust me. When the axe is going to fall. Whether you're just the latest in a too-long line of people who have used and manipulated me."

There was a world of hurt in Chakotay's sigh. "I'm sorry, but I've been played for a fool too many times before. I've reached a point in my life where I'd rather live alone than live a lie." He stood.

Tom's eyes flashed---rage and hurt throwing shadows in stark relief---as anger sparked him back to life. "So you're just passing me off to B'Elanna like a vid you've gotten tired of?"

Chakotay's back stiffened as his own temper kindled. "I don't see any virgins being sacrificed here. *You* cheated on me, remember?"

But the anger was snuffed out just as abruptly by the lost expression on Tom's face as the younger man whispered, "Can't we try again, Chakotay?"

Tom could see the answer before Chakotay spoke. The light had dimmed in those earth-dark eyes, regret and sorrow deepening the lines on the handsome face. "No, Tom, I don't think so. As much as I wish otherwise, I honestly believe you're better off with B'Elanna. You seem...more yourself with her. And she loves you. I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be." 

The sad smile that quirked Chakotay's mouth vividly reminded Tom of the first time they'd ever kissed. The softness, the wet sweet heat hidden within.

A sudden urge rose in him to just grab Chakotay, to capture those dismissive, denying lips with his own, press the solid body into the bar, grind his hips into the other man's. Force him to accept Tom back in his life. Shuddering, he quashed the instinct ruthlessly, and made himself accept the truth: it was over.

Tom didn't look at Chakotay again. He just stood and left the room.

***************

Chakotay sat down again and asked for a glass of water, pushing away the dregs of whiskey. The liquor would curdle his stomach now, along with the stew of regret and resolve already churning his guts.

"May I join you?"

Great. Just what he needed. A visit from Tuvok. Sipping his water and suddenly wishing he *had* ordered whiskey instead, he nodded toward Tom's vacated stool. "Sure."

Tuvok's nostrils pinched at the alcohol overlaying the commander's usual scent. He knew his timing was...less than optimal, but he didn't have the luxury of waiting. "I overheard your conversation with Lieutenant Paris. A most unfortunate turn of events." Truth to tell, he'd deliberately eavesdropped, trying to ignore the flashes of relief and frustration at each turn of the conversation.

Chakotay's reply was a grunt. He wondered who else had listened in on the exchange, and now knew that he and Tom had made a private, personal connection.

That had just been very publicly severed.

He straightened his shoulders and dragged his attention from his own problems. Tuvok never sought him out without reason. And Chakotay suspected he already knew why the security officer had tracked him down off-duty. "So Tuvok, has the Doc managed to get you and Vorik back on an even keel?"

Chakotay had read the EMH's report. He felt sorry for both men. The Srivani, it seemed, had been fascinated by Vulcan physiology. They'd played havoc with the men's endocrine systems to try and trigger the pon farr. Since there was no obvious analogy in their own physical make-up, it seemed likely the only reason they did it was because they could.

Damn phase-shifting bastards.

He glanced over, then returned to scrutinize Tuvok more carefully. The Vulcan's rather stern features were more sharply drawn than usual, and his ebony skin held an odd greenish tinge. A vague sense of alarm turned him to fully face his companion as he awaited an answer.

Tuvok knew the moment Chakotay fully engaged. The younger man's dark brown eyes widened, then seemed to scan him with concentrated precision. The obvious concern in his expression was expected but still...reassuring.

They were not friends, truly. But Tuvok needed them to become much more. "Vorik had finished his cycle recently enough that the doctor was able to pull him out of the artificial induction, though not without difficulty." He paused.

"But it's been quite a few years for you, hasn't it?" Chakotay's brow knit. "The treatments didn't work?"

"Yes, to both questions." Tuvok paused again. He could already sense the heat rising in his core, in his veins, whispering through his mind in the primitive, primal sounds that came before words.

Chakotay's mouth thinned as he acknowledged the gravity of the situation. "So you're going to need to be relieved of duty for the duration. I'll adjust the schedule and alert Greg to your absence." He tilted his head. "Have you told Kathryn?"

"No, not as yet." Tuvok steeled himself to broach a delicate subject. "I am still making arrangements."

Chakotay nodded, but knew he couldn't truly fathom what Tuvok was going through. To be forced by a whim of fate into the pon farr, so far away from his beloved mate, must be devastating. "Will you need a holodeck for your meditations or...other measures?"

"I do not believe so. I have already concluded that a facsimile of T'Pel is ineffective." Tuvok looked straight at the human. "But I do have a question and a...personal request."

Chakotay suddenly felt pinned by dark, glittering eyes. He swallowed at the sudden sense of...awareness...that seemed to leap to life between them. He nodded again, shocked to silence.

Tuvok could already feel the attraction. Not the merging of opposites that was his mating bond, but the pull of like to like. A call of strength to strength, loss to loss, and a hunger for the passion that smoldered beneath Chakotay's cool exterior. "Is your relationship with Tom Paris truly finished?"

Chakotay blinked, Tom's memory breaking the spell that had held him entranced. He looked away, still too raw to casually chat about it. "Yes." 

"Why?" The question---and its answer---were important to Tuvok. A test of motive, or character.

"Because I had to." Chakotay's anger at the intrusion of his privacy was muted by the sorrow of what he had lost. *Who* he never really had. "Tom was...strange when we were together. Quiet and overly submissive. Nothing like himself. I knew he was hiding something."

He shrugged. "I also know myself well enough that I'd have started to resent him for it. I could already feel the urge to push him, to test his limits to see what it would take to make him drop the façade. It just...it didn't seem like we would make it, long-term. But he has a real chance with B'Elanna, so I let him go. Tom deserves to be happy."

"And what about you?" Tuvok leaned closer unconsciously.

"I'll survive." Chakotay's mouth quirked. "It's not like I haven't had plenty of practice."

Tuvok stared a moment, again reviewing the logic of his course of action. The decision was sound. There was no elegant preface he could think of, the heady swirl of hormones in his blood urging him to act fast, act now. "I would like your help with the pon farr."

He had anticipated Chakotay's startled look. "What?"

"I wish to mate with you---temporarily." Tuvok stressed the time frame. "If a light mental link is correctly established, then there should be no residual...obligation...when the mating cycle is completed."

Chakotay couldn't believe his ears. True, Tom had effectively dumped him weeks ago when the blond took up with B'Elanna. But Tuvok knew the official break-up was barely minutes old. "Why?"

His mouth tightened as he expected a bland Vulcan comment on his imprecision, but instead Tuvok simply answered, "Because you are the most logical choice."

Now Chakotay's eyes narrowed. He could name half a dozen people Tuvok was closer to. "How so?"

"You are the fourth strongest person on the ship, excepting myself. Vorik has no...appetite for such a joining. Seven is too emotionally immature as yet to risk a mating bond, however insubstantial. And B'Elanna..."

Chakotay provided that reason. "B'Elanna is currently engaged elsewhere."

"Yes." Tuvok nodded, aware that Chakotay showed no sign of distress at the statement other than a tightening around the eyes. His own attention was drawn to Chakotay's tattoo. It was curiously symbolic of the man: no one had guessed how much was hidden from view.

He shivered uncharacteristically as Chakotay's eyes suddenly bore into his, a hint of anger in their depths. "Bullshit, Tuvok. Don't throw up a smokescreen about 'strength'. Sarek of Vulcan was married to slight human women most of his life. So there must be some measure of control---physical or mental---to prevent partners from being hurt. You just eavesdropped on me, Tuvok, ending things with Tom because he couldn't be honest with me. I'd have thought your logical mind would have calculated my reaction to being lied to."

When Chakotay stood to leave Tuvok leapt up as well. He wasn't about to let his prey escape. He grabbed the broader man's biceps and swung him in a half-circle, leaving Chakotay's back pressed against the bar and his front flattened by Tuvok's weight. Tuvok barely kept the growl from his voice as he grated, "Physical strength *was* part of the equation. But I'll admit it was ill-advised of me to omit the other reasons. I have wanted to fuck you since the day we met. You can at times exhibit an almost-Vulcan stoicism, but I remember how you were with Seska, all fire and blood."

Tuvok felt heat rising, his cock swelling at the thought of consummation. Soon, so soon. But first he knew that he needed consent. If he didn't have help to establish a light bond, his need could drive him into forcing one---deep, and permanent. His grip tightened as he struggled to contain himself. "There is also your obvious love for Tom Paris. You are the Voyager crewmember least likely to threaten my link with T'Pel. I do not wish to lose the life-bond to my beloved because of an unfortunate Delta Quadrant...necessity."

Chakotay didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. He felt the truth of Tuvok's arousal easily enough, but he hated the thought of being used again. Especially because he was considered *harmless*.

But he knew he'd agree to be Tuvok's bedmate. Tuvok wouldn't have asked if he had any other option. This was a desperate time, calling for desperate measures. Chakotay could already see the Vulcan's control fraying. But a surge of anger, whether at Tuvok or Tom or the Srivani or just the universe at large, made him flip their bodies so their positions were reversed. Now *he* pressed Tuvok into the bar, growling, "What the hell, I'll do it. But let me make one thing clear: I told Tom I wasn't interested in a bottom boy. I'm not looking to *be* one, either. You want this, you're going to go all the way."

Tuvok simply kissed him, hard, then drew back and hissed, "Yes."

************************************************************

B'Elanna considered her visitor as he walked into the room and slumped on her couch. Tom looked awful. Well, that was hardly surprising since it appeared he hadn't been to bed since he left her quarters hours earlier.

She hadn't been able to sleep, either. Waiting for him to arrive.

How this conversation would go, she had no clue. Especially in light of the messages she'd received regarding the other corner of their little triangle.

"I could have told you Chakotay wouldn't take you back," she said idly.

Tom's bewildered expression would have been funny under less painful circumstances. His jaw dropped and his eyes showed more white than blue. "What?!"

"It's not his way. He told me once that life had taught him never to look back, because there was nothing behind him." B'Elanna held his gaze. She was hiding her nervousness better than her lover, but it was there just the same. "You came here to break up with me, didn't you."

"I---yes." Tom rose and began to pace the small living space. He had spent the last few hours the same way, walking Voyager's decks, trying to decide what to do.

He'd finally made up his mind to end things with B'Elanna. He hadn't decided what to do about Chakotay.

But the news that B'Elanna *knew* about the men's affair floored him. He stalked back and seized her shoulders. "How long have you known," he snarled.

"Since the first night you spent together," B'Elanna spat back, slack in his hold, eyes glittering. "I smelled you on each other during the red alert. You obviously didn't have time for a real shower."

Tom dropped her, stunned. He sank down onto the sofa, horror filling him. "You knew. When you jumped into bed with me, you *knew* Chakotay and I were lovers?"

Without conscious deliberation, B'Elanna had obviously decided to come clean. She mentally shrugged; good warriors trusts their instincts. And she could easily sense the vulnerability of her current combatant. "You came after *me*, Tom, let's not forget that. But yes, I knew about Chakotay when I slept with you. I was also sure I wasn't doing any harm. You and Chakotay weren't going to last for very long."

She felt a surge of compassion for Tom's confused hurt. He had brought this on himself, but it was painful to behold. She explained, "I know Chakotay pretty well. He can hide things like anyone else, but if you catch him at just the right moments his eyes give him away. I saw him happy, for a short time. But then he would look at you and I could tell he was disappointed, confused, hurt, maybe even angry. It was just like watching him with Seska, right before he ended things with her."

A pause brought nothing but flinching silence from Tom, so B'Elanna kept going. "I knew for certain it was over between you when Chakotay didn't come after you for sleeping with me. He didn't do anything at all---polite, tacit agreement." She snorted. "He always preferred subtlety."

Tom shook his head, trying to comprehend all that had happened this night. He now understood why Chakotay hated secrets, if this was the kind of scene he'd gone through with Seska, or Riley. Maybe even with Kathryn over the Jonas incident. It was humiliating to be so oblivious.

His whole worldview had lurched sickeningly at B'Elanna's revelations. "Why?" was the only thing he could ask. "Why did you fuck me? You knew it was a lie."

He cringed at the expression on B'Elanna's face. Anger, hurt, maybe even offense. 

She snapped at him, "Because I wanted to. I never lied to *you*, Tom. I told you I loved you and I meant it." Her voice roughened as she leaned forward, "By the time you seduced me, I had no choice."

"What do you mean?" Tom started when B'Elanna abruptly moved away to stare out the viewport. He had never seen her so still, so controlled.

That control was clear in B'Elanna's voice as she began to speak. "I had been in love with Chakotay for so long. I wanted him, needed him---but I knew I'd never have him. And Klingons aren't the type to pine after impossible dreams. Life's just too short."

She turned around and looked at Tom, carefully, clinically, as if cataloging the differences between the men as she listed them. "Chakotay was just my type. So I decided to set my sights on the very opposite of him. And there you were: fair not dark, bland instead of exotic. Slender rather than powerful. Affable as opposed to intense. Someone whose chatter always fills the silence. Someone who's safe."

Her mouth twisted. "So I made myself fall in love with you. With everything in me I convinced myself your irritating quirks were charming. That you weren't just another bratty Starfleet Flyboy." 

B'Elanna's expression softened. "And the funny thing is, I was right. You *can* be charming. And sweet. And I started to think maybe I could really love you after all. When I believed I'd never get another chance, I told you so."

She shrugged and sat down again, eyes serious. "You aren't my first choice, Tom. You never were. But I *have* chosen you and I can build a life with you. So if you want to stay together and make this work, I'll do what I must to keep you."

Tom stayed motionless another moment, then exploded. "Just what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Be grateful you saw the light and decided I wasn't such a bad consolation prize after all?" He surged to his feet, but there was nowhere to go. He turned to B'Elanna and stared at her, this woman he thought he knew. "Why the hell would you want to stay with me? What is this *thing* we're supposed to have?"

His nerves were jangling; he desperately wanted to flee but felt rooted to the spot, a strange sort of inertia keeping him in place. The dust, blown away by all the shocks, was settling on him again. A blanket---comforting and suffocating at once. A cold fear bloomed in his stomach, a sudden wild vision of himself trapped like a fly in a black widow's web.

But he knew B'Elanna wasn't deadly, or deluded. She was just...practical.

B'Elanna could read Tom's struggle in the changing expressions on his face as she answered. "A port in the storm. Safe harbor when you know you'll never make it home. You can dump me, Tom, if you want. Like you dumped Chakotay and he dumped you. But I know him: He'd never have given up on you without a reason, and he's not going to take you back. And I *do* love you. Enough that I don't care about your secrets. Any of them."

She waited as Tom just stared at her with unreadable eyes.

Finally he spoke. "I can't, B'Elanna. I didn't love you when we got together, and I'm not even sure I *like* you right now."

The decision was not unexpected. "Just think about it, Tom. Remember how hot, how good it was between us. It could be like that again, I know it." She shrugged and played her last card. "By the way, the duty roster's changed and the grapevine will give you the reason soon enough. Tuvok's gone into pon farr, and Chakotay's going to help him through it. As his mate."


	2. Chapter 2

Chakotay stared into the bathroom mirror as he dried his hair. He almost chuckled as he recalled Tuvok's "suggestion" that he dispel the "indisputable aroma of alcohol" by utilizing the shower in their VIP suite.

Neutral ground.

His amusement waned as he contemplated the logic of the arrangements. It was natural for Tuvok to not want to taint his private quarters with memories of the two of them together. Of an encounter dictated by circumstances, not desire.

But how did *he* feel about it? Would it have been wiser to bring Tuvok to his own bedroom instead, to exorcise memories of Tom with those of a very different man?

Perhaps. But he couldn't. Just couldn't.

Chakotay sighed ruefully, grimacing at his reflection. He should be handling this better. He'd been burning bridges since he was 15 years old, when he first left Dorvan for Starfleet Academy. He'd learned a long time ago to similarly put aside his romantic disappointments and move on.

As he'd told Tuvok, he'd certainly been forced to swallow the bitter draughts of rejection and betrayal enough times. The Delta Quadrant was full of women who'd broken his heart.

And now a man had joined the list. Though technically, he supposed, it wasn't entirely Tom's fault. Tom had cheated on him, no doubt about it, but the younger man had also sought to mend their broken bond. To forget about B'Elanna and the Srivani-induced relationship between them.

But Chakotay had told Tom the truth. He was wary of the bizarre creature Tom seemed to become when they were together. And he was weary of the pain of *knowing* he was being lied to. That Tom didn't feel Chakotay could be trusted.

Tom's evasions hurt worse than Seska's tricks, or Riley's and Kathryn's dupes. Because Chakotay had cared more for Tom than for anyone in his life. Had wanted more with him, hoped for more. But his dream of a finding a soulmate in Tom had never come to pass.

So it was over. He just wished his heart would get the message and cease yearning for things that would never be, with someone whom he'd never truly had.

It should be even easier to get over the end of yet another affair this time. In the real emotional sense, Tom and he had never been intimate, despite the fact that they'd had sex. Tom had remained a cipher, closed-off and unknowable.

Chakotay knew he'd done the right thing in letting Tom go. Giving Tom the chance to find something better, with someone he trusted enough to be himself. To share his secrets. To end the lies.

So Chakotay should be glad it was finished. The vague unease the doomed relationship evoked should have dissipated into nothing.

Except the idea of what might have been still wafted through his mind, a lingering wisp of beguiling cologne.

With time it was sure to fade. At least, he hoped so; maybe then his heartache would ease as well.

With a last sigh he tossed aside the towel, tightened the belt on his robe, and briskly finger-combed his hair. Keeping his back straight and his head high, he walked out to meet...his new mate.

***************

Tuvok was pacing the bedroom, anxiety and anticipation running like electric current along his nerves. The silk of his robe teased his skin, alternately sliding or clinging damply in places still wet from his own shower.

Both men had needed the time---and privacy---after the EMH's regimen of preparations. He had insisted that both Chakotay and Tuvok needed medical treatment before risking the stresses a homosexual experience of pon farr would engender.

Tuvok could sense the effects of the suppository that had loosened his anal passage slightly and coated it for ease of penetration. Both he and Chakotay were ready to accommodate a full physical joining. Visions of bodies shifting, clenching, sent another shiver along his limbs.

He was venturing into unknown territory. In every sense.

T'Pel had been his only lover, ever. And they'd never indulged in the more...exotic...forms of intercourse. The pon farr was certainly no time for experimenting, and neither one had suggested this particular form of consummation in the years between.

So now Tuvok was about to have some very private fantasies come to life.

He had told the truth---he'd always been fascinated by the dichotomy of Chakotay's personality. The Maquis rebel: bloodthirsty avenger and unemotional tactician. The Starfleet officer: efficient, organized taskmaster and warm, caring counselor. The friend: loyal supporter yet honest advisor. Seska's lover: passionate beast and tender romantic.

The last he knew not from observation, but conversation. Chakotay had kept the relationship private, but Seska had not been so discreet. She had shared many intimate details with B'Elanna, eagerly whispering together as they'd worked on the Maquis ship's engines. Oblivious to the acuteness of Vulcan hearing.

If Seska's gloating held even a modicum of truth, Chakotay was quite a catch. And she did take it hard when she lost him. She became, indeed, the personification of the ancient human adage about a woman scorned.

Tuvok stopped abruptly when the bathroom door opened. He turned to see Chakotay glide into the bedroom.

His breathing and blood quickened at the sight of Chakotay, the deep color of the human's robe a perfect match for the lines of his tattoo. Tuvok's fingers flicked of their own accord; he pulled them back, awaiting consent.

Chakotay's own hand seemed to hesitate a moment, then stretched out to beckon. "Let's begin," he said simply.

Tuvok stepped forward, his physical urges temporarily suppressed by the need to set the mental bond. He slid one hand into Chakotay's and raised the other to press fingertips to the bronze temple and cheek. He stared into dark eyes that were quiet, calm, waiting. He let himself sink into their serenity, drawing upon it to bolster his own control. "My mind to your mind," he murmured, "Your thoughts to my thoughts."

Chakotay gave a mental flinch at the first slither of alien awareness into his consciousness. He stilled, willing himself to acceptance, to welcome. It wasn't Tuvok's fault that all of Chakotay's previous mental encounters had ended disastrously.

He could sense Tuvok fumbling, seeking connection. The Vulcan's mating fever colored his aura in Chakotay's imagination to the sullen glow of coals just catching fire. He embraced the warmth, absorbing it, building an earthen ring around it to both nurture and contain the elemental power.

When he came back to himself he found his hands cupped around Tuvok's face, his index fingers lightly tracing the sweep of pointed ears. He blinked, amused embarrassment quirking his mouth. "May I?" 

Chakotay felt Tuvok's nod as well as saw it. He once more followed the delicate curves and whorls. He could feel physically and mentally Tuvok's reaction to stimulation of what was clearly a Vulcan erogenous zone. Tuvok gave a low moan and braced his hands on Chakotay's shoulders, fingers twisting into fabric.

The hands dropped away to clench into fists as the tension in Tuvok's frame increased. Chakotay moved his own fingers to the throat of Tuvok's robe. He carefully slid it open and away, revealing a dark body of slender strength. Dusky skin covered lean muscle and long bones, the contours casting faint shadows into the hollows, wiry dark hair surrounding a gleaming spear of arousal.

Chakotay projected caring and the stirring of desire through the link that bound him to Tuvok. He offered nothing deeper, always aware of Tuvok's bond to T'Pel, an ember buried at the core of what they were building together.

Tuvok's own fingers trembled slightly as he unknotted the tie of the garment hiding Chakotay's form from view. He was surprised at Chakotay's restraint in the first delicate steps of this dance. He had not expected his human companion to be so...sensitive. So aware of Tuvok's precarious balancing act between the mental and physical demands of the moment and the careful protection of his marriage bond.

He relaxed, within and without.

Chakotay apparently caught the change, his head tilting and brows lifting in surprise. "You weren't sure you could trust me, Tuvok?" 

Tuvok just shook his head in reply and yanked open Chakotay's robe. Trust, by its very nature, was fraught with the uncertainties of the untested, the unknown. Tuvok had no other choice, so he allowed Chakotay to guide him through the mating cycle.

It was...comforting to have the wisdom of his choice of temporary mate affirmed.

But his logic and even his thoughts were hazing under the rising heat of want and need. His eyes raked Chakotay's nude body, confirming for himself the heft and power always hinted at but rarely expressed.

Tuvok reached out and ran his fingertips along the muscles of Chakotay's chest and ribs, surprised at the smoothness of the golden-brown skin, the coolness a balm to his own fevered heat. He panted slightly at the sight of a bronze cock at the apex of strong thighs.

His hands clenched as he suddenly yanked at Chakotay's hips, smashing their bodies together as he sought full lips that had haunted his dreams since the Srivani's arrival.

Chakotay turned his head to the side and countered Tuvok's aggression with some of his own. He gripped Tuvok around the waist and tossed him onto the bed. He pressed his advantage, spreading his own body over Tuvok's, capturing his companion's wrists in one hand and pulling them above Tuvok's close-cropped head.

He stared at Tuvok shuddering, shifting and growling below him. "There's a secret to surviving the pon farr," he murmured quietly as he stroked his free hand along the side of Tuvok's face and throat, exploring, caressing. "It's not a strength of body, but of will. And I shall *not* let either one of us be hurt by this, Tuvok."

Tuvok heard the promise in the soft-spoken words, felt it in Chakotay's touch on his mind and body. He sensed the sorrows of Chakotay's past, overlaid by the pain of Chakotay's love for Tom Paris, the hopeless yearning heartache.

Then Chakotay kissed him, and all Tuvok could think of was the fire that blazed in his veins. Here was the beast of Seska's tales, as Chakotay claimed his breath, body, and soul. An implacable mouth slanted ruthlessly over Tuvok's, demanding tongue roaming where it would. All Tuvok could do was groan in pleasure, his hands shifting restlessly in Chakotay's grip even as he strained at the mental bond.

Wanting more. Wanting all. But denied, at least in the link.

Tuvok's blood heated further as Chakotay's plundering lips moved to ravish Tuvok's flesh. Teasing licks and kisses feathered over his throat and chest, with stinging nips creating a random pattern on his torso. His nipples were rolled and sucked to almost-painful hardness. He arched into the sensations, unconsciously parting his thighs.

Chakotay kept a firm hold on Tuvok even as he feasted on succulent dark flesh. He knew he had to control the first encounter---it was the only way to ensure he wouldn't be shredded to bits in Tuvok's mating frenzy later in the cycle. *His* will must reign supreme, even as he yielded his body to his sex-crazed mate.

But that was later. Now he rubbed his cheek against Tuvok's trembling belly, murmuring reassurances in Vulcan and still projecting them through the bond. He was getting a sense of Tuvok, the whole man rather than just the fraction he had learned of him in the time they'd been crewmates. It was a full life, and for a moment he grieved at what Tuvok had lost in Voyager's trek across the stars.

But he was soon distracted by the heat of Tuvok's skin and mewls of need. Chakotay sampled the fluid running down the Vulcan's long dark cock. The flavor was unique in his experience, but not unpleasant. And he firmly quashed any comparisons to his most recent bedmate.

Tom Paris certainly had no place here.

Instead, Chakotay explored his mate's length with lips and tongue, then nuzzled lower into the wiry curls covering the taut ballsac. He rose up, opening Tuvok's legs further with his knees, careful to keep Tuvok's wrists confined but lowering them to ease the strain.

Tuvok groaned, low and husky, as teeth teased the crown of his cock with quick light scrapes. His desire surged and he lifted his hips, seeking a haven for his turgid sex.

He watched, panting, as Chakotay opened glistening lips and sucked him in. He arched again, thrusting, primal urges driving him to fuck Chakotay's mouth with no thought beyond his own release.

The touch of Chakotay's free hand between his buttocks startled him, then drove him to a faster rhythm as fingers pressed against his opening. He arched and shouted, shuddering his release as Chakotay's throat muscles worked around him, swallowing, increasing his pleasure.

He sank back, covered in sweat, his hands flopping loosely in Chakotay's hold, their bond thrumming with his satisfaction.

Chakotay released Tuvok's cock and wrists, grinning at his temporarily sated lover. "If only it were that easy." 

He slid up Tuvok's body to settle his pelvis at the join of Tuvok's thighs. He grazed the tops of Tuvok's shoulders with his teeth.

A grunt was Tuvok's only verbal response, but Chakotay was surprised at the complexity of emotions that flowed through the link. He was relieved to sense anticipation, for he had given Tuvok fair warning: He would take his own pleasure in this mating.

So he knelt and gripped Tuvok's legs to sling them over his shoulders. He looked down the length of the gleaming dark body as he shifted, slowly working the head of his cock into the scorching heat of Tuvok's opening. He groaned, struggling to keep his penetration gradual as he slid into the slick sheath.

In an agony of careful movements he sank deeper, but finally his groin rested tight against Tuvok's buttocks. He paused, panting, giving Tuvok time to get used to the sensation of being filled.

Tuvok shifted slightly, the rod of flesh in his body stimulating his desires once more. His cock twitched and he groaned as blood surged there once more to stiffen him to arousal. This was not just the pon farr---he was *enjoying* this, as well as anticipating the time when their roles would be reversed.

Yet he acquiesced to Chakotay's dominance of the mating bond. He knew he trusted his mate, but could no longer remember why it was important to do so. His life, his sense of self, were as vague as his thoughts, fleeting and distant. But Chakotay's influence didn't seem so much a restraint as an embrace, now.

The gentle meeting of minds was a sharp counterpoint to the carnal connection of their bodies as Chakotay began to move, quick short thrusts mixed with long fierce plunges into Tuvok's body. He reveled in the slide of their sweaty flesh, the heat of Tuvok's channel around his cock.

He growled low in his throat as he saw Tuvok's hands twist into the bedsheet, heard the low sounds of renewed need strangling in the long dark throat. He leaned forward, claiming Tuvok's mouth once more as he continued to thrust.

Tuvok plunged one hand into Chakotay's hair and slid the other between their shifting forms to grip his own cock, seeking relief for the tension tightening his body and throbbing through his groin. He stroked himself in time with Chakotay's movements, feeling the need, the fever build each time they came together. Suddenly he was over the edge, his back arching, mouth opening with a rough animal sound as ecstasy washed through his body and surged out through his spurting cock.

Chakotay released Tuvok's mouth as he felt the body beneath him stiffen in orgasm. He groaned at the heat squeezing around his flesh as he continued to move, a handful of furious thrusts before he too surrendered with a cry of release. He slid Tuvok's legs off his shoulders, then braced his own hands on the mattress, trying to keep himself from crushing Tuvok as they caught their breaths.

He reached to snag a preset damp towel, carefully cleaning Tuvok's body, then his own. When he leaned to the side once more to dispose of the cloth, he was unprepared for Tuvok to make his move. Suddenly he was on his back, with Tuvok---almost instantly erect yet again---grinding his pelvis into Chakotay's. The desire, fever, need of pon farr set their link blazing.

Tuvok pressed heavily on muscled shoulders, slitted eyes taking in the rugged beauty of the brawny form beneath him. He growled and descended, taking soft curved lips hard and ruthlessly. He rubbed their bodies together, feeling his mate's legs part and wrap around him. A quick shift of his hips and his cock was pressed to the vulnerable opening. He plunged, growling approval even as he swallowed the other man's groan.

Chakotay reached up to embrace Tuvok, meeting the deep thrusts, opening himself to possession. He ran his palm along the springy locks above Tuvok's nape, his fingers then sliding down to caress the long back. He hunched into the sweat-slick skin of Tuvok's body, urging his mate to lustful abandon but taking care to keep control of the mental connection.

This was the crucial moment. If Tuvok resisted Chakotay's lead, then the Vulcan could lose the bond to T'Pel and be linked to Chakotay forever. Chakotay kept the image of the hearth in his mind---reflecting the fire but not part of it.

Tuvok pressed his mouth to a vein beating wildly in Chakotay's throat, his teeth clenching lightly around it. He shuddered, wanting to bite and tear, to set a mark of his possession. But something in his mate's aura held him back, gifting him with a moment of clarity. Instead he lifted his head to howl, hands grabbing for greater purchase on supple flesh as his movements became even more wild.

Chakotay stared upward, caught in Tuvok's gaze. He grunted with each thrust into his ass, his own arousal building with each jolt against his gland. The pressure seemed to come as much from Tuvok as his own core. Either way, he let it carry him into the blaze and blur of ecstasy. His cum coated Tuvok's belly and his own groin in as he shouted his release.

Tuvok howled again and released his own seed. He seemed to hang suspended a moment, then sank onto a broad damp chest. Arms encircled him, holding him close as their heartbeats slowed once more.

But not for long. He shifted, sensing his dick fill again within the passage still clasping it as the mating cycle continued. He made a low sound of satisfaction, his hips moving of their own accord in the ancient dance.

Chakotay moaned in surprise, the bond sparking his body's eager response to the stiffening of Tuvok's cock once more within him.

It was going to be a very long night.

************************************************************  
************************************************************

Tom miserably stared into his beer, wishing it was real---and a little stronger. A nice glass of absinthe would give him the oblivion he craved.

He was going back to B'Elanna.

It was not a cause for celebration. He simply didn't see any other option. His heart longed for another chance with Chakotay, but Tom just couldn't bring himself to risk seeing Chakotay's reaction to his honesty. Because no doubt about it, Chakotay wanted all or nothing.

So it would have to be nothing.

Tom sighed. If he hadn't lied to Chakotay in the first place by pretending to be something he wasn't, he would never have cheated on his lover---his love.

His one true love, probably. And yet Tom was still going to walk away. Right back to B'Elanna.

Because he wanted his secrets to stay buried.

B'Elanna was willing to ignore his past, and by her very nature she somewhat satisfied the needs that had pushed him into her arms in the first place. Urges, reawakened by the Srivani, that he could no longer deny.

It was safer this way. Better.

Maybe if he drank enough he'd actually convince himself of that. He snorted, wondering why he even bothered to continue lying to himself.

B'Elanna would no doubt be pleased. She'd been subtly stalking him since he'd left her cabin in shock the other night.

No one had seen Chakotay or Tuvok since the announcement. Their two-day confinement had ended early this morning, but the men were spending some time alone, recovering from the experience.

At least according to the Doc's reports, the mating cycle was a success. Tuvok was over the pon farr, safe for another seven years. The medical log had noted the temporary bond had been concluded "without significant damage to either party."

Tom couldn't believe how jealous he was of Tuvok. The Vulcan had gotten closer to Chakotay than Tom ever had, ever would. And despite the fact that it was Tom's own fault he and Chakotay were no longer together, some part of him still regarded the Mystic Warrior as *his* mate.

If only he could get that insistent little voice in his head to shut up. Drowning it in alcohol didn't seem to be doing the job.

Maybe, with a big enough dose of tranquilizers, he could put it to sleep.

The problem was, Tom himself wasn't all that keen on waking up again. Not anymore.

Tom grunted and took another sip of beer. He might as well go to B'Elanna's cabin now and get it over with. Fuck her, and officially mark the start of their wonderful, new, fun-filled life together.

Although considering his zero interest in her, he wasn't all that sure he'd even be able to get it up in bed with her now that the Srivani weren't pumping him full of testosterone.

And he had an awful feeling he'd be seeing someone else entirely in his mind's eye when he did.

Good thing B'Elanna wasn't all that picky at the moment. As long as she got him, she didn't care how.

Or even why.

Ain't love grand? He silently toasted it, not bothering to hide his smirk.

"May I have a moment of your time, Lieutenant?"

Tuvok's voice at his side caused Tom to jump, only his quick reflexes preventing him from two dousings in the same week as his drink sloshed over the rim.

"Fuck, Tuvok, what's your problem?" Tom muttered as he put down the mug and sopped up the spill with bar napkins.

"It appears that *you* are the one having difficulties. May I sit?" Tuvok barely waited for Tom's grudging nod. He'd taken a lot longer convincing himself that this was the right step than he'd expected. What seemed so certain, so right, in the cold light of logic became something fundamentally different when considering the warmth and heat of recent memories.

But in the final equation, there was no reason to hesitate. His future waited for him in the Alpha Quadrant.

And perhaps he could make Chakotay's present a little happier. It seemed the least he could do.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Tom snarled as he resettled. The sudden tension he felt had a lot to do with fighting a fierce urge to punch the Vulcan's lights out. Just because.

"There is no need for your current attitude, Mr. Paris---Tom," Tuvok replied calmly. "The pon farr is completed. I no longer have any claim upon Chakotay."

Tom's jaw clenched as he gritted, "So you got what you wanted and now it's time to move on, huh?" He shot the other man a baleful look. "You here to compare notes?"

"I would not violate Chakotay's privacy in that manner---or yours, in point of fact." Tuvok acknowledged Tom's surliness, but mentally shrugged and soldiered on. "I am here to inform you, in your own colorful vernacular, that you're about to make 'the biggest fucking mistake of your life'." He nodded in satisfaction at Tom's wide eyes and dropped jaw.

Tom shook off his surprise at hearing the stoic Vulcan curse and sneered. He was in no mood to have Chakotay's latest squeeze second-guess his choices. "Oh, really."

"Yes." Tuvok's brows drew together a moment as he hesitated, then decided bluntness was called for. "Despite the self-flagellation you are currently indulging in as part of your melodramatic pose of martyrdom, you are not a monster."

"I never said I was." Tom's eyes narrowed in resentment. "Where do you get off talking shit like that---did you look into your crystal ball, oh sage of the Delta?" He vaguely wondered when Tuvok would get tired of his insubordination, then realized he was actually looking forward to a stint in the brig. It would delay his trip to B'Elanna's bed, at least for a little while.

"No paranormal trappings were required." Tuvok's brow lifted as he called Tom's bluff. "You seem to have forgotten we once shared a mind-meld---I *know* you. And all about your...rather unsavory past."

Silence reigned as Tom froze, his eyes widening in horrified realization. He *had* forgotten the implications of Tuvok's eavesdropping in his mind---years ago, all he'd wanted was an end to the Banean punishment.

The fact that Tuvok had known all about him, all this time...

Tuvok's demeanor softened slightly as he took in Tom's shock. "Chakotay is a compassionate person. I do not believe that he will spurn you for your past transgressions. And I am certain that your fears are unfounded: He will find a way to accept all of you, including your...personal quirks."

Ah, hope was a bittersweet burn in his soul. Tom shook his head in denial of the leap his heart took as much as Tuvok's words. "Easy to say, Tuvok. But you're not the one who'll suffer the consequences if you're wrong."

Tuvok suppressed a sigh of frustration and tried a new approach. "Why did you choose to bed B'Elanna Torres?"

"Because she said she loved me." At Tuvok's disbelieving silence Tom sighed and shifted uncomfortably on the barstool. "Because she's so much stronger than I am."

"She represents a challenge that you enjoyed...overcoming," Tuvok postulated.

"Yeah." The admission was a tough one, and Tom's head ducked guiltily at the evidence that his motives for fucking B'Elanna had been less than pure.

"And you believe if you...express yourself with Chakotay, that will also be the case?" Tuvok tilted his head slightly in inquiry.

"Tuvok, you don't get it." Tom turned to him, exasperated. "I already *know* what will happen if I top Chakotay. Shit, since I met him I haven't been able to get the fantasies out of my head. Why do you think I was playing überbottom with the Big Man in the first place? The only way to resist the urges was to completely shut down. It's just too tempting. *He's* too tempting."

"You fear you'll lose control?" Tuvok asked carefully.

"I already have!" Tom finally lost his temper. The false hope and Tuvok's probing were making a deep wound throb again with fresh pain. "B'Elanna is half-Klingon---and *she* didn't have an easy time of it, let me tell you."

"But that was at first," Tuvok pointed out. He had confirmed his hypothesis by reading the EMH's reports. "When you were constantly denying your own needs and the Srivani were subjecting you to hormonal stresses that you wouldn't ordinarily face." He asked the question that would seal Chakotay's fate. "Did things continue at that level when you were...expressing yourself freely?"

Tom stopped, blinked. His forehead furrowed as he considered his answer, and the implications. "No...everything seemed to settle down. We were always going at each other, but I wasn't---we weren't---"

"Then why not consider a similar approach with Chakotay? It is a logical analogy." Tuvok was disappointed, but not particularly surprised, to see Tom's expression harden in rejection once more.

"I can't." Tom swung back to the bar, folding his arms across his chest in protection. "Chakotay will want to know everything and I---I just can't."

Tuvok sighed and stood. "That is your decision. But be aware that if you take up with B'Elanna without the excuse of alien influence you will have thrown away any chance at a relationship with Chakotay. And that, I believe, will be to your great detriment."

Tom slanted a knowing look upward. "You really want him for yourself, don't you?"

"I...that is irrelevant, since my bond to T'Pel remains intact." Then Tuvok decided that he could at least admit this much. "If that were not the case, however, then I assure you we would not be having this conversation."

This time hope refused to be suffocated or crushed, drowned or denied. Tom paused a moment, then made a last desperate effort to stave off the inevitable. "But why would Chakotay even want to try again? Chakotay never looks back."

Tom was surprised at the glimmer of warmth and affection that suddenly lit Tuvok's eyes. He realized that Tuvok was truly making a sacrifice in giving up Chakotay to Tom. Then Tuvok's reply caught his attention once more. "Technically, that is correct. But consider: He resigned his commission, yet wears the uniform of the very organization he rejected. Because it is a different relationship. He serves Voyager's crew---not Starfleet."

Tuvok reached out, laying a hand on Tom's shoulder, willing him to understand. "You have a chance, Tom, to build a new connection with Chakotay. By letting him meet the real Tom Paris, for the first time."

Tom swallowed as Tuvok's gaze turned somber.

Tuvok felt compelled to continue, "At least let him reject you for the truth, instead of the false belief that you consider him unworthy of your trust. Your love." He paused. "Please."

Dropping his arm, Tuvok exited Sandrine's. He had done all he could; the rest was up to Tom and Chakotay. He left Tom sitting silently contemplating his choices. And their consequences.

************************************************************

The bastard had changed the lock.

After more than three hours of concentrated hacking and cracking and a vow to get Chakotay to explain just how he'd secured his quarters so effectively, Tom was *finally* in the bedroom. He paused at the foot of the bed, frozen, waiting to see if the hiss of the door was enough to wake Chakotay.

It wasn't. Chakotay still slumbered, the streaking stars lovingly highlighting his skin. Chakotay lay mostly on his stomach, face in profile, right arm underneath the pillow. The white topsheet had slid down almost to his waist, leaving him half-naked.

Tom crept forward and reached out, snagging the bottom of Chakotay's covering. He dragged it away very slowly, revealing smooth bronze skin inch by delectable inch until his quarry was completely bare.

Tom's mouth dried, then watered. Damn, Chakotay was simply a fucking gorgeous man. Broad shoulders and lovely back angling into rounded buttocks and some great gams. One muscular leg was shifted upward and bent at the knee. Very convenient.

Firmly ignoring the way anxiety gurgled his stomach and squeezed his breath, Tom pounced.

Chakotay jolted awake and was firmly pushed into the mattress by a weight pinning him down. His left wrist was suddenly gripped and used to twist his arm behind his back, and someone's right knee shoved behind his own to spread his leg wider. Fingers made their way into the crack of his ass, and a small cold oval was firmly shoved into his rectum.

He could identify his assailant by scent, but turned his head to look anyway. "What the *fuck* do you think you're doing, Tom?" he growled.

"Exactly," Tom said, a sinister pleasure coloring his tone as he felt Chakotay struggle beneath him. He quickly moved his now-empty hand to press on Chakotay's right shoulder, keeping him pinned.

He nuzzled at the nape of Chakotay's neck. Then he began exploring the skin beneath his lips and rubbed his uniform-covered hard-on against Chakotay's naked backside. "How long did the Doc's report say it took for that suppository to work? Five minutes? Mmmm...I can barely wait. If I never mentioned it, Chakotay, let me say you have one very fine ass."

"Which you showed no interest in whatsoever the whole time we were together," Chakotay retorted. He could free himself from his vulnerable position, but not without causing Tom considerable damage in the process. "You must be drunk out of your mind. Computer," he called, "medical alert."

Tom nipped one shoulder blade, and twisted Chakotay's captured arm a little tighter. Just in warning. "Sorry to disappoint you, lover, but I've disabled the comm and reinstated that nifty lockout of yours. Nobody's getting in or out of here until we have some things settled. So you might as well relax and enjoy the ride."

"Get the hell off me and out of my quarters---*now*." Chakotay couldn't believe that Tom was pulling such a crazy stunt. He tried to ignore the tantalizing brush of Tom's clothes against his skin, reminding himself that Tom was better off with B'Elanna. Really.

"Not a chance, babe." Tom said as he ground them both into the mattress, then held still. He laid his cheek against Chakotay's, his voice serious. "You said you wanted the real me. Well here I am, up-close and personal."

Chakotay relaxed enough to ease the strain on his arm. He could feel the tension in Tom's body even through the uniform. "What do you mean, Tom?"

"Fuck," Tom swore suddenly, his whole body clenching in protest as he prepared to spill his guts. This was as hard as he expected. He wished he *was* drunk. Then he wouldn't have to remember. "Fuck, Chakotay, Tuvok had better be right about you."

He squeezed his eyes shut, preferring the darkness. "It's such a pretty little tale. When I got kicked out of Starfleet I had nothing. My pay and regular accounts were confiscated as part of the terms of my dismissal and the admiral---dear old dad---froze my trust-fund money. And nobody wanted to know me, much less lend me hard currency. I barely scraped together enough cash for the transport ticket out to the frontier."

"I heard you were scrounging around for a while before you found the Maquis." Chakotay didn't understand the setting for Tom's confession but was willing to listen to it. His brief liaison with Tuvok had reminded him just how much he wanted a bond with Tom. Honestly, he couldn't bring himself to tell Tom to go back to B'Elanna. Not while there was still a chance...but his attention returned to Tom as the younger man continued.

"Yeah. Not even garbage-scow skippers would hire me. But I found a way to get by." Tom swallowed. "I---well, this guy he---he approached me in a bar. Said I was just what he was looking for." 

He snorted. "I told him that my ass wasn't on the auction block and he could go fuck himself. But it turned out he wasn't interested in that particular service."

Tom unconsciously nestled closer to Chakotay's warmth as his own flesh chilled at the memories. "What he wanted was a cock for sale, attached to a particular type of guy. To satisfy a very special kind of client."

Chakotay stayed silent, sensing Tom's struggle to speak.

The bile surged into the back of Tom's throat, but he kept going. "He---it turned out that there were women---a couple guys, too---who got off on the idea of being...raped. So I'd get an appointment---time, place, target---and I would...I would force myself on them. Use them. Treat them like scum, like whores I'd decided to teach a lesson."

Tom could feel Chakotay's body go still beneath him as Chakotay absorbed the information. His own self-loathing strangled his voice. "The first time I did it I kept waiting for the gal to start screaming for security. But she didn't. And she was wet and ready for me when I finally got enough of her clothes off to do it. Chakotay---shit, I don't know how to explain it. But I guess I figured I was a murderer and a cheat and a liar already, so why not just add pervert to the list. Besides, it was good money and I needed the cash for...necessities."

"To feed your habits, you mean," Chakotay corrected, his tone oddly mild.

"Yeah, I guess." Tom ignored the dampness of his eyes, his hitching breath. "I should have figured I had enough addictions, though. 'Cause after I got a taste of it, I kept going back for more. I *liked* having them struggle underneath me. Liked forcing my dick in their mouth or their cunt or their ass. It made me feel...powerful. King of the fucking world when the truth was I was just another piece of shit floating in the bowl."

"Did Ro know about this when she recruited you?" Chakotay managed to make himself ask. He was stunned, his mind a blank as he tried to reconcile the Tom Paris he thought he knew with the man who had apparently been even more deeply involved in the seedy underbelly of life in the DMZ than anyone ever suspected.

"Nah, I managed to keep that little vice quiet. Hell, none of my 'victims' was likely to say anything. But, you should know---" Tom knew he was risking everything, but he had to lay it all on the line. Chakotay probably already despised him, but he was going to tell the whole sordid story. He had to, now. He'd gone too far not to finish the journey. "If you hadn't hired me I would probably have gone over the edge. I enjoyed it too much. By the end I wasn't all too concerned if they really wanted it or not."

His laugh was a sharp-edged, bitter thing. "I would have ended up in a place like Auckland anyway. For rape."

The men were quiet for a long time, just the sound of their breaths adding tempo to the underlying hum of ship.

Tom opened his eyes, staring into the dimness, waiting for Chakotay to pronounce sentence.

Chakotay felt a drop, tear or sweat, land on his cheek. He sighed. He had no right to sit in judgement of Tom or anyone else. Nobody's hands stayed clean in the Maquis. He'd lost his own innocence long before. "This was all years ago, Tom. What does it have to do with why you're here tonight? Or the bottom-boy act you were pulling before?"

"Chakotay, don't you get it?" Tom raised his head and shifted his legs slightly so his boots pressed against vulnerable bronze calves. "*This* is what I used to do: force myself on people." His voice rose. "I still want to---*need* to do that---but not with everyone. When the Maquis picked me up I went cold turkey on everything, including this. I realized that I didn't get the urge unless I was with somebody who was strong---somebody I wanted to conquer."

Tom chuckled grimly, "Why do you think I would go for those sweet little lambs like Gerron and Kes---they were safe." He sighed. "And then I had a chance to be with you. It was like giving an alcoholic keys to the liquor cabinet. I've wanted to do you---and I mean *do* you---since we met. But you've also got this whole nobility thing going on, Chakotay. I've had tons of wet dreams about you, but I also didn't like the thought of dragging you down to my level."

Another bitter laugh. "Or losing you after you got disgusted with me. It was all I could do to keep my hands off you---I couldn't stay the night, couldn't argue, couldn't joke, couldn't do anything except lay there and hope things would get better."

Chakotay sighed. "But they didn't." 

"No, they sure as hell didn't." Tom's forehead wrinkled as he remembered. "I guess the Srivani must have started on me then, because the...urges kept getting harder and harder to fight. I thought I was going to explode out of my skin. I was desperate."

Chakotay tensed up again as he grated, "So you fucked B'Elanna."

"Yeah, damn straight I did," Tom admitted baldly. "I knew she could take whatever I dished out, and in that first week I jumped her every chance I could get. And she fought me every time---I think it's the Klingon in her, she won't go down without a fight."

"So you were getting a daily fix and didn't have to do the sack of flour routine with me anymore," Chakotay said, sudden anger surging through him. 

He heaved his body, trying to chuck Tom off---throw his ex-lover out and forget that he obviously wasn't what Tom needed. "Just get the hell out of here and I won't breathe a word of this to B'Elanna. You're obviously well-suited for each other."

"No!" Tom gave a desperate shove and smashed them both back onto the mattress, knocking the breath from them both. His fingers gripped Chakotay's wrist and shoulder tightly, instinctively, holding on for dear life.

"No, Chakotay." He forced their heads back down to the pillow, laying his cheek against his lover's once more. "I can't go back to her. When the Srivani were gone I remembered what it meant to be with you---how you cherish me with just a smile, or the way you say my name, the tenderness in your eyes when you enter me. Chakotay, yours is the most loving touch I've ever known. Don't take that away from me because I need a fix once in a while."

Chakotay closed his eyes, wishing his hands were free to rub them. He didn't know what to do. Yes, he loved Tom. Even knowing about his past didn't change that. In a way, Tom's confession cemented the feelings, because now he knew that Tom *did* trust him.

But could Chakotay trust Tom as well? Could he be what Tom needed? Tom had some pretty strange kinks. But Chakotay had to admit it was...exciting to know Tom wanted him so much. And kind of erotic to be naked while his lover stayed dressed. Still, he tested Tom's grip, seeing if his captor had slacked his hold enough to get free.

And was surprised when Tom moaned and pushed against him again, clearly excited by his resistance. What shocked him more was the way his own arousal spiked at the struggle.

Maybe...maybe he *could* give Tom that "fix". If nothing else, he had to try, because he didn't think he had the strength to push Tom out of his life once again. "What do you mean, Tom? Just what kind of scene are you into?"

Tom's heart leapt again at the question---and his cock did too, pushing painfully against his trousers. His voice was husky as he hastily spun one of his favorite fantasies. "Maybe you're the last person in Sandrine's one night and she warns you to get home because there's a curfew and you don't want to get caught wandering the streets of Marseilles. But you decide to walk home, and you just happen to cross paths with a young blond gendarme. He doesn't like the look of you---or maybe he does, too well---so he cuffs you and hauls you in on suspicion."

Tom reached down quickly to open his trousers and free his cock, which was hard as duranium and dripping with need. He shivered at the touch of cool air and Chakotay's heated skin. 

He wiped his sweaty forehead on Chakotay's back. "There's nobody at the station except one bored old sergeant asleep at the desk. The blond cop hauls you back to the cells---they've got the old-fashioned iron bars---for interrogation. He doesn't like your sass so he opens the cuffs and orders a strip search. When he pulls his gun you comply."

They were both breathing a little heavily now, but Tom could still feel Chakotay shifting slightly, seeking a way out. He pressed his boots against Chakotay's legs again in warning. "He figures a cavity search will teach you some respect. So he gets another set of cuffs and stretches your arms out and locks them to the bars. Then he snaps on the glove and grabs the lube and makes sure you have nothing to hide. But you still give him lip so he decides it's time for some discipline. He uses his baton to open up your ass. Then I---*he*---walks around to the other side of the bars and yanks you down to your knees. He puts a hand on the back of your head and forces you to deep-throat him---and swallow every drop when he comes."

Tom stroked the satiny skin beneath his right hand, his hips unconsciously pulsing forward, knowing it wouldn't be long now. "Then he comes back around behind you and hauls you up again. He plays with you---teasing you the way your hot bod and smart mouth teased him all night---until he's hard again. Then he pulls out the baton and fucks you so hard you almost go through the bars. And after you start begging I finally reach through the bars and grab your cock to bring you off and we both scream so loud we wake up the sergeant."

Chakotay grated, "Sounds like you're just looking for a fuck toy." That bothered him, even though he was breathing hard now too, more turned on than he expected.

"Oh no, Chakotay, I'm looking for a playmate." Tom leaned close, rubbing his face in soft black hair, whispering in Chakotay's ear. "And please believe that I want the chance to adore you, worship your body the way you've done mine. But I'm definitely looking for some game time as well. Say I'm walking down a corridor at the bottom of the ship---you know, the ones where the power's down and the lights are dim. I turn the corner and suddenly you're there. You don't say a word and when I tell you no you put your hand over my mouth to shut me up as you shove me flat into the bulkhead. Next thing I know my pants are around my ankles and your cock is shoved so deep in my ass I can feel it at the back of my throat. You bang the hell out of me, and when you're done you just pull out and walk away, leaving me bare-assed in the hallway, shuddering with the aftershocks, your cum and mine trickling down my thighs."

"So what are you saying, no doesn't mean no?" Chakotay said as he bucked suddenly.

Tom scrambled to pin him down again, pressing him deep into the mattress and nipping him hard behind the ear before licking the spot. "That's right. But if you really want me to stop you could just say you have a headache."

"As in 'Not tonight, honey'---screw that and screw you. Keep your hands---and your dick---to yourself, mister." Chakotay moved again, then gasped as he felt Tom's cock plunge hilt-deep into his ass. He bit his lip to hold back the moan at the welcome fullness, then started spitting curses at Tom, chewing him out for assaulting a fellow officer.

Tom groaned as Chakotay started to play the game in earnest. He had to work to keep his dick in its hot, satiny heaven as Chakotay kept trying to throw him off. For one horrible second he thought maybe he had read the situation wrong and Chakotay really was rejecting him, but then he felt Chakotay's opening clench around him, squeezing, making it as hard to pull out as it had been to get in.

He threw himself into the fantasy, riding his captive relentlessly, hearing Chakotay's groans mixed with muttered threats of reprisal. He pounded out his joy, his love, his lust, his need into his mate's tight golden-brown ass. He licked the sweat from Chakotay's back, biting when Chakotay's struggles knocked him off his rhythm. He hoped Chakotay's regenerator was fully charged---he didn't want anything to permanently mar the smooth tawny surface.

Chakotay was seeking his own release as Tom's battering of his gland took him higher and higher. He rubbed his engorged cock into the sheets, wishing he could get a hand free. But then Tom bit him again and he growled as his orgasm hit, blinding him with the intense pleasure that raged through him.

Tom groaned as the pressure on his cock and balls finally gave way. He thrust deep, his cum shooting out of him in near-painful bursts for what seemed like an eternity of white-hot ecstasy. It had *never* been like this. He collapsed against Chakotay's back, releasing his lover's arm and raining kisses on the red marks staining Chakotay's neck and shoulders. "I love you, Chakotay," he whispered.

"I guess I love you too, sick twisted puppy that you are," Chakotay replied and rolled over. "You do realize that now that you've corrupted me I'm never letting you go---I'll need my 'fix' as well." He suddenly grabbed his kinky blond by the scruff of the neck and shook him. "But you damn well better *never* wear boots to bed again."

Tom just grinned and kissed him.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcomed with great joy and constructive criticism is treasured as a rare gift.


End file.
